


six feet under the stars

by nightswatch



Series: six feet under the stars [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:25:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras decides that he needs a break and goes on a road trip.<br/>On the way he comes across a hitchhiker, who quickly becomes a new friend for him on the road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Enjolras didn’t know where exactly he was. He knew he was somewhere in the State of Pennsylvania and that was about it. He’d left his parents’ house – which was about an hour outside of New York – late at night and now he could see the sun coming up in the rear view mirror. He’d been driving all night, listening to some strange rock ballad station until he’d been out of range and switched to something that Courfeyrac would probably call ‘offensive to every sane person’s ears’.

He rubbed his eyes and pulled over at the next rest area. It was deserted except for his car. He’d missed driving while he was in New York, he’d left the car at his parents’ because, really, he wasn’t crazy enough to bring a car to the city. It had been his grandpa’s car, actually, a red mustang convertible, built in the 60s, his grandfather’s pride and joy. After his death it had been passed down to Enjolras and the past couple of months he’d kept it in the garage of his childhood home.

Realizing how tired he was, now that he didn’t have to concentrate on the road anymore, he locked the car from the inside and crawled on the backseat to sleep for a bit.

* * *

_“You need to take a break,” Combeferre mumbled as he carefully placed a cup of fresh coffee on a pile of paper on Enjolras’ desk. It was a mystery to him how Enjolras could work like this, you could hardly see the table under all the files and whatever else had accumulated during the last couple of weeks. Probably mostly college work. However, exams were over now, and Combeferre had a feeling that it’d be a pain to sort through all of it, he didn’t envy Enjolras in that respect._

_Enjolras ignored him and typed away on his macbook, dimly aware that Combeferre didn’t leave but leaned on the windowsill, waiting for Enjolras to pay attention to him. Eventually he looked up and regarded Combeferre with a questioning glance._

_“You are aware that exams are over, right?”_

_“Obviously. I just need to quickly finish this, then I’ll take a break, I promise.” Enjolras brushed unruly curls out of his face._

_“That’s not what I meant. You need to take a break from all this, you need to get out and do something, instead of just working yourself to death. I’m going to Paris the day after tomorrow, how are you going to survive when I’m not here to remind you to eat and sleep every now and then?” Combeferre smiled saying that, but Enjolras knew that he was only half joking._

_“This voluntary work is important, ‘Ferre, I can’t just take off,” he said with a serious expression._

_Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Yes you can, it’s voluntary, you don’t have any obligations, you don’t owe anything to anyone. You’ve done more than enough already, they’ll be fine without you, for a few weeks at least.”_

_“I wouldn’t even know what to do.” If he was honest, he didn’t remember when he last did something purely for his own enjoyment, not counting watching crappy TV shows in the middle of the night, when he couldn't concentrate on work anymore._

_“Man, just go get your car and go somewhere, and I bet your parents would love to see you again, you haven’t been there in months.”_

_Enjolras sighed. Right, his parents. He’d have to suffer through dinner with them if he went to get his car, but he probably owed them a visit. “I’ll consider it.”_

_Combeferre nodded, not really satisfied with his answer, but left him to his macbook and his notes. Enjolras, however, didn’t do any more work that night. The idea of just taking off to God knows where started growing on him._

_When Combeferre left for Paris with Eponine, Enjolras took them to the airport, waved goodbye when they went through security, slightly envious that he couldn't go with them. He stayed at his apartment for another three days, living only on ramen noodles and diet coke, trying to finish up all the work he had left. Since Combeferre wasn't there to tell him off when he stayed up and worked through the night, Enjolras often passed out with his head resting on his laptop or on a stack of paper._

_Then once at three in the morning, he tipped over one of his coke cans and soaked half of his notes. That was when he’d got up, furious, went to his room and randomly started pulling clothes out of his closet and throwing them into a duffle bag._

_He was on a train on the way to his parents’ house early the next morning, with a bright grin on his face._

* * *

Enjolras woke up to the sound of his phone ringing on the passenger seat, his back hurting like hell and his left uncomfortably numb. He reached for it with a pained groan.“Yeah?”

“Dude, I just got your text, you just took off? Where the fuck are you?”

He’d almost forgotten that he’d texted Courf the night before, to let at least someone know that he wouldn’t be in New York for a while. “I’m not sure, I think somewhere in Pennsylvania?” He looked out of his car’s window to see if there was a sign that could tell him about his approximate location, but there was nothing to be found. It was just a small rest area, with a picnic table that had seen better days, surrounded by trees.

“Pennsylvania?,” his friend sounded mildly amused. (“What on earth is he doing in Pennsylvania,” he could hear Jehan ask in the background. “I don’t know, probably joining the Amish.”)

“I don’t really know where I’m going yet,” Enjolras said, cutting Courfeyrac off. "I went to get my car yesterday and I really didn't want to stay at my parents' longer than I had to, so I just started driving and ended up here," he explained.

“Promise you’ll write us a postcard and tell us about your adventures in the wild.” Again, Jehan was muttering something, but Enjolras didn’t hear it this time.

“We’ll see about that, my next adventure involves getting breakfast.”

“Good luck with your quest,” Courf shouted enthusiastically. “Just let us know if you’re still alive every now and then, okay?," he added, his voice suddenly serious.

“I will.” He ended the call, a bit uncertain, still, about just leaving New York and driving into the blue without any plans whatsoever.

Enjolras always had plans. Neatly organized and thought through plans, so nothing could ever possibly go wrong. He liked knowing what would happen next, being prepared for whatever may come. This was new territory, he hadn’t done anything this spontaneous since high school. Combeferre had always been the one to come up with such things, Enjolras had never been overly adventurous, he had simply tagged along.

It had been an insane idea to begin with, but he tried to reassure himself that he could always just turn around and go back to New York.

He heaved himself back on the driver’s seat and went back on the Interstate, with breakfast the only thing on his mind. Luckily, he came across a roadside diner only a few miles later. It didn’t look overly impressive, and there were only a few cars and trucks parked in front of it, but a sign claimed they sold pancakes, and that was all it took to convince him.

Walking inside, he saw the two truckers in the back corner, and a young guy chatting with the girl behind the counter. Except for them, the diner was empty. Anyhow, it didn’t look a lot better on the inside, the furniture was old, and it had a shabby look to it in general, but he also couldn’t deny that it had a certain charm.

Enjolras walked up to the counter and ordered pancakes and coffee. Pulling out his wallet he noticed that he only had a couple of dollars left. “Do you have an ATM somewhere?”

The girl behind the counter shot him an apologetic look. “Oh, I’m sorry, we do, but it’s broken.”

He winced. Great, just great. “Just the coffee then.”

“Don’t worry man,” said the boy who was sitting on one of the bar stools. “I got it covered.” He slipped the girl five bucks. “Get the guy some pancakes, he looks like he needs them.”

“I… thank you.” Normally he wouldn’t have accepted a stranger paying for his food, but he was starving. Maybe that was what happened on the road, maybe kind strangers paid for your breakfast, maybe that was part of the adventure. Because ever since he’d talked to Courfeyrac, he couldn’t help but think of it as an adventure.

“It’s no big deal,” he mumbled, then proceeded to pack up his things. He pulled a beanie over his head, although the sun was high up in the sky already, and walked to the door.

“Have a good trip,” Enjolras called after him.

The boy turned around and nodded cheerfully, and then was off.

You could say about the diner what you want, but the pancakes were heaven. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever tasted anything that delicious anywhere else, but already promised himself, that he’d return here on his way back to New York, whenever that would be. The girl who'd served him told him about a farmer's market a few miles out and shared some funny stories about travellers that had come through, while Enjolras ate up his breakfast. She was charming, which was probably the most important part of her job, he could imagine the tips she got.

When she had to turn her attention back to work, he picked up a newspaper that someone had left on the counter, shaking his head over various headlines, inclined to call Courf to tell him about some ideas he had for their next meeting when he was back home. Knowing that Courfeyrac would quite possibly just laugh at him, because he couldn’t even go on vacation like a normal person, he soon dismissed the idea.

Two cups of coffee later, Enjolras was on his way again, this time with the top of the convertible down, the sun shining on his face and the music turned up loud, as happy as he hadn’t been in what felt like years.


	2. Chapter 2

It was very liberating to know that he didn’t have to be anywhere. At least not necessarily, obviously there was more than enough work back in New York. When he was busy working he didn’t even notice the pressure he put upon himself, and now he was just getting used to the thought that he probably wasn’t needed as much as he thought, which was both, mildly disappointing, and also a huge relief.

He couldn’t have been on the road for long, when he saw a man in the distance, walking on the shoulder, sticking his thumb up. Enjolras rolled his eyes. He knew there were still people stupid enough to pick up hitchhikers, despite the warnings, against their better judgement.

Usually, Enjolras would never even so much as consider pulling over, but as he got closer, he recognized the beanie, curls sticking out at the side.

It was the guy who had paid for his breakfast.

And Enjolras slowed down, not even sure why, but he was curious. He turned down the music as he came to a halt next to him, and the guy let out an appreciative whistle directed at his car. “I was wondering if that one was yours.” He grinned wickedly. “How did you like the pancakes?”

Enjolras frowned. “Yeah, about the pancakes. You can afford to buy someone you don’t know breakfast, but you can’t afford a bus ticket?” He didn’t look exactly poor either, only his converse surely had seen better days.

“Aw, isn’t that adorable, you think I’d want to take a bus. No, my friend, this is so much more exciting.” He then came closer to the car, his finger brushing over the door handle. “So, are you going to give me a ride?”

He shouldn’t, he really, really shouldn’t. God knows who this guy was. Could be a murderer, could be a thief, could be anyone. But he was also the guy who’d bought him breakfast, the guy who wore a bright red beanie in the middle of summer, the guy with a smile that made his heart clench. (Not that he’d admit the last bit to himself.)

The guy watched his inner struggle, an amused smile playing around his lips. A car passed by, then another one.

Finally, Enjolras gave in. “Fine. No eating in the car.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, throwing his backpack on the backseat, and slid on the passenger seat, holding his hand out to Enjolras. “I’m Grantaire, pleasure to be on this fantastic ride with you.”

Hesitantly, Enjolras gripped his hand. “My name’s Enjolras and I’m not yet sure if the pleasure is mine.”

Grantaire laughed. “Oh, don’t worry, soon you’ll love me.” He made himself comfortable and vaguely gestured at the highway. “Let’s get going.”

Enjolras nodded, and they drove in silence for a while until Grantaire started fiddling with the radio, trying to find a station he liked. He wanted to tell him not to touch his car, and to keeps his hands off his stuff, like he always did when people didn’t ask permission, but he kept quiet. He was strangely okay with it.

After a while he noticed that Grantaire was watching him. “What?”

“You’re not fond of small talk, are you?”

“Do you want to walk?”

“Hey, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that you’re giving me a ride, you don’t have to talk to me.” He then proceeded to stare at the passing by trees, pretending to be offended, but soon grew bored and looked over at Enjolras again. “At least tell me you’re going.”

Enjolras shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know or you don’t want to tell me,” he asked, still smiling, but sounding a bit disappointed.

He rolled his eyes. “No, I really, genuinely don’t know, I left New York yesterday and now I’m here and all I know is that I need to stop for gas soon.” His tone was slightly more aggravated than he actually felt.

“Oh,” was all Grantaire could manage. “You’re from New York.”

“You too?” Enjolras actually had to laugh at that, because honestly, what were the odds.

“Brooklyn, born and raised. I go to NYU. And by the looks of it, you’re going to Columbia?”

“What do you mean _by the looks of it_?”

Grantaire chuckled. “Nothing.” He quickly changed the subject. “So, if you need inspiration concerning where to go, Chicago is about 500 miles from here, I hear they have great pizza and a lot of fog.”

“Is that where _you_ want to go?” He couldn’t believe it, but he was considering it, it wasn’t a bad idea. He’d been to Chicago, years and years ago, and he’d liked it. He also liked the idea of having Grantaire in his car for another, what, 8 or 9 hours? The guy was infuriating. Enjolras liked him.

“That was the plan.”

“Right, well, Chicago it is then. I guess we can make it there today if we keep driving.” They’d get there in the evening, probably, if they didn’t make too many stops.

If Grantaire felt guilty about turning him into his personal chauffeur, he didn’t show it. Enjolras dismissed the thought quickly, though, because it wasn’t like he was going there solely because of him.

They kept driving west, Grantaire passionately singing along to 80s rock songs that came on the radio (and mind you, he wasn’t a bad singer at all), Enjolras catching himself wanting to sing along. But he didn’t sing. Not necessarily, because he was bad at it, but because he couldn’t bear to just let his composure go like that. His friends had often dragged him along to karaoke bars and the like, but he was always sat in a corner, cheering them on, but never, for even a second, letting himself go.

 A few hours later they reached Ohio, and soon after, Enjolras stopped at a gas station. His legs felt like rubber when he got out. He filled up the car, while Grantaire was off getting them food. When he was done, he parked the car next to the gas station and went to look for an ATM and to get some chocolate, sincerely hoping that Grantaire wouldn’t steal his car in the meantime. Not that Grantaire didn’t seem trustworthy, he just didn’t know him well enough.

Luckily, his car was still there, with Grantaire perched on the passenger seat, the door open and his feet dangling outside, eating a hotdog with a blissful expression.

“What did I say about food in the car?”

Grantaire snorted at that. “Technically, I’m not _in_ the car.” He made a show of eating it just outside the car for a bit and then handed Enjolras a hotdog, wrapped in foil. “You’re welcome.”

Enjolras took it, and held a fiver under his nose as exchange.

“I’m not taking it,” Grantaire mumbled, his voice muffled because of the food in his mouth.

“Please, will you just let me pay you back?”

“God, are you always like that?”

“Like _what_?”

“You’re trying so hard to be that person who does nice things for others, but you can’t accept someone doing something nice for you, and you think you’re oh so noble, but honestly, it just makes you an idiot.” Grantaire looked up at him, and he might have sounded angry, but his eyes were soft. “Don’t do that,” he added, now more quietly, “just accept it.”

Enjolras wanted to be mad, because a stranger was talking to him like that, though at the same time he knew that that stranger had somehow seen right through him. So he just scowled at him, lost for words, and walked around the car, to sink into the driver’s seat. When he started eating, Grantaire was smart enough to not make a remark about eating in the car.

Pulling off his beanie, Grantaire settled back in his seat, with his eyes closed and his head tilted back a little. Enjolras tried not to stare, but his eyes kept wandering back, darting over pale skin and dark curls. Neither of them made an attempt to start a conversation again for a while. Even when Enjolras was done with his hotdog and started the car, Grantaire didn’t open his eyes.

“You can buy me dinner in Chicago.”

Grantaire’s eyes flew open at that. “Good. How do you feel about pizza?”

“Sounds great.”

They fell silent again, fields passing by for miles and miles, until Grantaire suddenly sat up and turned off the music. “Listen… I’m sorry,” he said, running his fingers through his curls. He was nervous, Enjolras realized. When he didn’t reply, he added, “I mean, I hardly know you, it’s not really my place to say stuff like that.”

 _Damn straight, it isn’t_. “No, it’s fine. I think I needed to hear that.”

“So, we’re good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Soon, Grantaire was back to his cheerful self, singing Mustang Sally on top of his lungs, while Enjolras kept driving toward Chicago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so let me just tell you that I don't know anything about the route from New York to Chicago, when I went to Chicago I took a plane, so I apologise for inaccuracies.


	3. Chapter 3

Enjolras lay on his somewhat comfortable hotel bed (more comfortable than the backseat of his car at any rate), eyes closed, trying to force himself to sleep. It was well past midnight and he was knackered, but he wouldn’t even as much as doze off.

With a sigh, he switched the light on and grabbed his phone to reread the messages his friends had sent him in the course of the day. Most of them just said “have fun try not to get lost”, and there were a few concerned messages from Joly, telling him not to forget to put on sunscreen. Courfeyrac had outdone himself in spreading the news. He’d quickly texted him to let him know he was in Chicago, after he’d parked his car in a lot with reasonable rates – reasonable for city parking lots, that is.

Grantaire had then taken him out for what he claimed would be the best pizza experience of his life, and he hadn’t been lying. It had been a wonderful day, even though his feet were sore and he’d never been more desperate for a shower in his life, he was glad he’d taken Grantaire with him, and now that they’d gone separate ways, he wished he was still here. He’d tried to convince Grantaire that what he did wasn’t actually _completely useless_ and _a waste of time_ , and even though they’d spent half of the evening bickering about Enjolras’ work, he couldn’t think of any conversation he’d recently had that he’d enjoyed more.

His eyes flickered to his palm where Grantaire had scribbled his phone number. “Call me when you get bored,” he’d said. He was bored now, well not really, but restless. Anyway, it was nearly 2 o’clock in the morning and what even would he say?

Enjolras passed the next half hour staring at the ceiling, thinking he could probably call him the next day, thought up reasons, dismissed most of them, and finally turned on the TV because he was driving himself crazy. Worst of all, he didn’t even know why. Why did he even care, he barely knew the guy.

He fell asleep to the sound of late night TV, the light still on and his phone next to him on the bed.

The next day, he didn’t wake up until noon. Enjolras couldn’t remember when he’d last slept in, but he’d needed it, and he promised himself that he’d do that more often once he was back home. He hadn’t even noticed how exhausted he’d been, or maybe he’d just forgotten what being well-rested felt like.

He got something to eat and then visited a couple of art museums, went to Millennium Park, got lost trying to find the Hard Rock Café, but eventually made it there and bought a shirt for Combeferre. He couldn’t go back to New York empty handed, not when this trip had been his idea. Enjolras was grateful that Combeferre had pushed him out the door, not literally, but still.

Later he bought postcards to send to his friends, reassuring them that he was doing great, since he hadn’t bothered answering their messages, the text to Courf was the only one he’d sent. They’d be fine without him. Really.

Enjolras strolled to Navy Pier, and got more pizza for dinner. Honestly, he’d never been too fond of pizza, and Grantaire had been appalled when he’d told him that he hadn’t had pizza the last time he’d been to Chicago (“Dude, what is wrong with you, have you even seen it, it’s like _pizza pie._ ”), and now it was actually growing on him. A lot.

Back at the hotel, he took a shower and then stared at his phone for what felt like hours, unsure what to do next. Being this reluctant really wasn’t like him at all, then again, he normally didn’t have time for things like this, he worked and when he worked he always knew what had to be done. But this… this was different, this was something else. He could hear Courfeyrac in the back of his head saying something like “I’m not even sure if you know how to have fun.”

Finally, cursing himself for being such an idiot, he took his phone and dialed Grantaire’s number.

He answered straight away. “Aw, you’re missing me already?” Then a pause. “Man, I really hope this is Enjolras, otherwise it’d be a tiny bit embarrassing.”

Enjolras laughed and deliberately ignored the first bit. “No, it’s okay, it’s me… I was wondering… what are you doing tonight?”

* * *

They ended up in a stuffy bar that didn’t look too promising from the outside, but lured them inside with cheap prices and comfortable couches to sit on. There was a football game on and most people were crammed into one corner, eyes fixed on the TV, cheering and shouting whenever the occasion required it.

Grantaire told him about his studies at NYU, passionately talked about art and doodled a little sketch of Enjolras on a napkin.

When Grantaire ordered his second water, Enjolras looked at him curiously. “You’re not drinking?” He’d taken him for the kind of guy who enjoyed a beer every now and then. And sometimes maybe one too many.

He shrugged, and pushed the napkin over to him. “Not anymore, no.”

“Why?” he asked and picked up the napkin, marveling at Grantaire’s talent.

“Man, that’s not a story for tonight. I’ll tell you some other time, I promise, I just don’t want to ruin a perfectly nice evening.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Enjolras didn’t push the matter any further and instead told him how he’d ended up on the road all by himself, carefully avoiding the topic of his little activist group, since they’d gotten into a (somewhat) serious argument the last time he’d mentioned it.

They talked for hours, only interrupted by especially loud screams from the footballs fans on the other side of the bar. Soon they noticed that hey quite literally had nothing in common, at least nothing significant, which, to Enjolras, made Grantaire even more intriguing. He’d never met anyone with so different beliefs and interests from his own, and even though he didn’t agree with Grantaire most of the time, he found himself wishing that he wouldn’t stop talking.

When they left, way too early for Enjolras’ taste, he accidentally bumped into one of the eager football watchers, who stood outside smoking a cigarette. He mumbled a quick “sorry”, but the guy either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore it.

“Watch it, pretty boy,” he grumbled and gave Enjolras a little shove, and he was only prevented from falling on the sidewalk because Grantaire caught him and promptly pushed Enjolras behind him.

He took a few steps toward the guy, finger poking his chest. “ _You_ watch it, he said he was sorry, just leave him alone.”

A couple more shoves later, and the guy landed a punch directly on Grantaire’s face, which made Grantaire even more furious and made him think it would be a good idea to tackle the guy. Luckily, one of football guy’s friend stepped outside the bar only a moment later, and assisted a helpless Enjolras with prying the two of them apart. They vanished without another word, leaving him with a battered-looking Grantaire.

“Ah shit, I’m bleeding, aren’t I,” Grantaire mumbled with a pained expression, and brought his shirtsleeve up to his nose, promptly soaking it with blood. “He didn’t even hit me that hard.” He carefully touched his nose, confirming it wasn’t broken.

“I’ll go back inside and ask them for some ice, okay? Don’t go away.”

“Wherever would I go.” He smiled sheepishly as he watched Enjolras walk back inside.

Enjolras returned with a baggie full of ice and handed it over to Grantaire, who put it not on his nose but his hand, with a grateful expression. They walked back to Enjolras’ hotel, because it was the closest, he’d invited Grantaire to come with him, it just seemed like the right thing to do after he’d defended him so heroically. And he wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

Grantaire inspected his face in the bathroom mirror. The ice had nearly melted, it was a warm summer night after all. “If I’m very, very lucky you might not even see a bruise.”

Leaning in the doorway, Enjolras watched him mumble to himself and washing dried blood off his face. “Thank you, by the way. You didn’t have to do that.”

Grantaire turned around to him, amusement clear on his face. “Well, it was pretty obvious that you wouldn’t punch him, no offense, but you don’t seem to be the type who punches people, and that guy just deserved it.” Enjolras didn’t remind him that he hadn’t actually been the one to hit the guy first. “I guess Chicago isn’t the city for me after all.”

“How’s your hand?” Enjolras took it into his, and examined it closely. Joly would know how bad it was, he thought.

Grantaire didn’t answer, just stood there looking at him, sending sparks down his spine. His eyes were impossibly blue, Enjolras had never noticed. He pulled his hand out of his grasp and flexed it. “It doesn’t particularly feel good, but it could be worse, I guess.” Grantaire’s eyes never left his.

“Where do you want to go next then?” His voice was hoarse, and he really didn’t feel like his usual self.

Shrugging, Grantaire averted his gaze and wandered over to Enjolras’ bed. “Haven’t really thought about it.”

“Well, I’d be open to suggestions. I mean, if you want a ride or anything.” There, he’d said it. His offer was out there, and he tried so hard to sound casual, not hopeful, no, definitely not hopeful.

Grantaire lay back on the bed, absent-mindedly rubbing his hand, which probably hurt like hell, thinking. “You know,” he muttered, eyes closed, his hair looking like a dark halo against the white bedsheets, “Route 66 starts in Chicago, I walked past the sign this morning.”

“But Route 66 doesn’t exist anymore. I mean, not really.”

“You can still sort of follow it.”

“Interesting.” Enjolras settled on the bed next to Grantaire. “So, you think we should do that?”

Grantaire sat up at that. “Are you sure you want to invite me on your little adventure? I can be rather annoying. Just to warn you. You spent one day in a car with me and I’m pretty sure you wanted to rip my head off multiple times.”

“I can deal with that.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“You’ll see.”

“Right, then. Route 66 it is.” Grantaire let himself fall back on the mattress. “Tomorrow. Don’t wake me up before 10, I swear, I’m going to hit you.” He pushed his shoes off and awkwardly tried to slip under the sheets, failing, and apparently didn’t care enough to make another attempt. Going back to his own hotel seemingly wasn't an option and Enjolras couldn't bring himself to care that there was a guy he barely knew in his bed all of a sudden. He lay down next to him, leaving a decent amount of space between them.

He didn’t sleep much that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's some good advice I have for you: go to Chicago and eat pizza


	4. Chapter 4

Enjolras woke up to the sight of an already wide awake Grantaire on the opposite side of the bed. He was lying on his side, eyes on Enjolras, a sheet twisted around his middle, his arms and feet sticking out and his hair a wild mess. You could hardly see that he’d been in fight the night before, at least not in his face, the knuckles of his right hand, however, didn’t look that good. Still, a smile played around his lips. “Good morning.” It was only a whisper.

“You could have woken me up, you know,” Enjolras grumbled.

“No, I enjoyed watching you drool into your pillow way too much.” Grantaire looked entirely too smug. Enjolras let out a frustrated groan and buried his head in said pillow. “It was really adorable, though,” he added and patted him on back. “Don’t worry I didn’t take pictures.”

All Enjolras could manage was to grumble once again, this time something unintelligible. He turned his head so he could look at Grantaire. “How’s your hand?”

“Oh, it’s fine, really, it only feels like an elephant stepped on it.”

Enjolras sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault… well, not technically.” 

“That makes me feel so much better about all of this.” If it wasn't for Grantaire, it would probably be him with the bruises now.

Grantaire laughed and stretched out on the bed, his crumpled shirt riding up just an inch. Enjolras caught himself staring for a second too long. He quickly turned on his back and looked at the ceiling. “Do you want to get breakfast and then get going?”

“Yeah, about that…”

“You changed your mind.” It wasn’t a question. And he was sincerely hoping that he didn’t sound too disappointed.

“No, not that. But we can’t leave yet. We have to go up Sears Tower.”

Enjolras bit down a comment about Sears Tower not being called Sears Tower anymore, because Grantaire would probably tell him to shut up and stop being a smartass. He hadn’t been up there. It’s not like he didn’t want to, but he could think of a billion things he’d rather do. “How about we get your stuff and throw it all in the car and then you can go up and I’ll wait for you,” he suggested, hoping Grantaire wouldn’t try to convince him to come with him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Why can’t we both go?”

“I don’t want to, but I honestly don’t mind waiting.” Enjolras was already feeling a bit squeamish at the thought of going up that freaking tower. He took a deep breath.

“Oh really, and why is it that you don’t want to?” Grantaire knew something was wrong, he wasn’t stupid, he could see it in his eyes, and obviously he was being too much of an ass to just let it go.

Enjolras scowled. “I’m not too fond of heights, okay?”  Grantaire was going to laugh at him, people usually did, because they knew what he was like, they knew he wasn’t the type to be scared of anything. Courfeyrac had once said that they were just happy that he was human, too. He still didn’t know how to feel about that.

Surprisingly, Grantaire kept a serious face. “Was it really so hard to say that?”

Enjolras just rolled his eyes. He had a feeling that travelling with Grantaire was going to be quite challenging.

* * *

“Is it too late to go back?”

“Yes.”

“Why did I let you talk me into this?”

“Because deep down we both know you want to do it.”

Grantaire had had brilliant arguments as to why he should come with him. It was too bad that not a single one would come back to him now that he needed to convince himself that this wasn’t actually the worst idea he’d ever had.

They were the next group to go up in the elevator and Enjolras was ready to just turn around and run. He didn’t, however, because he knew that Grantaire was right. He wanted to do this.

_Maybe you should try facing your fears instead of running away from them._ Right, that had sounded way better when he hadn’t been about to die. Because that was exactly what he felt like. Like death was coming for him. And that was what he’d been telling Grantaire for the past twenty minutes.

Grantaire threw him a mildly worried glance when the doors of the elevator opened. He held out his hand, wordlessly, and Enjolras took it, thinking he’d probably bruise it, too, to match the other one. He didn’t even know why he was afraid of heights – well, not really afraid, just not overly thrilled – and he actually hadn’t even known until he’d gone up the Empire State Building with a couple of his friends a few years back. It hadn’t been his finest hour. It wasn’t like he couldn’t handle it at all, really, but if a choice presented itself, he always chose to stay firmly on the ground.

Thankfully, Grantaire didn’t mind his hand being squished all the way up to the skydeck, and even when they stepped out of the elevator, he didn’t have it in him to let go. Grantaire didn’t seem to mind, just pulled him a little closer to the windows, Enjolras not actually resistant, but not outright enthusiastic either.

“Don’t look down, just look at the view, it’s amazing, isn’t it?”

It was... it was truly amazing. They’d caught a good day, and they could see as far as probably possible, the city stretching out for miles and miles on one side and Lake Michigan on the other.  “Thanks for convincing me.”

“You didn’t need much convincing to begin with.” Grantaire then let go of his hand and wandered toward the ledges, smirking at Enjolras, who frantically shook his head when Grantaire waved him over. He really didn’t need to stand in a little box with nothing underneath him but a glass plate, he’d mustered enough courage for one day.

* * *

On the way back to the parking lot where Enjolras had left his car, they got sandwiches and travel guide, so they would actually find the historic Route 66 and not end up getting lost. Grantaire was intently studying the maps all the way back and Enjolras had to make sure that he didn’t run into random pedestrians, whilst mumbling about sights along the way.

“I guess we could make it to St. Louis today,” Grantaire mused, as they were putting the top of the car down. “It’s about five hours from here if I read that map right.”

“We better get going then.” Enjolras was giddy with excitement, and something told him that Grantaire felt exactly the same.

“About 2000 miles to the ocean,” Grantaire said happily. “I can’t wait to see it, man, I’ve never made it further west than Kansas City.”

“ _Kansas City_?”

“Don’t ask me how I ended up there, I was drunk for most of the trip.”

A lot of questions were burning on the tip of Enjolras’ tongue, but he didn’t ask, just raised his eyebrows, hoping it would give Grantaire enough incentive to tell him.

“They have the greatest public library on this planet, let me tell you.” Not really what he’d wanted to know. He’d get a chance to ask at some point, he was certain, but for now he had to pay attention to Grantaire’s instructions, leading him out of the city and onto I-55 toward St. Louis, Missouri.

Grantaire kept flicking through the maps for a bit longer, even when Enjolras didn’t need directions anymore, and then suddenly set them down and poked him in the side. “Tell me something about yourself.”

He glanced over briefly, saw Grantaire had taken off his shoes and made himself comfortable, arms folded behind his head and dark hair fluttering in the wind, a pleased expression on his face. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything.”

Enjolras wanted to say something interesting, but couldn’t come up with anything for the life of him, it was like he’d completely forgotten everything he’d ever done. So he just went with the first thing that came to his mind, as trivial as it was. “I hate green beans with a burning passion.”

“Dude,” Grantaire snorted, “that was deep.”

“Everything I say is deep.”

“Yeah, no doubt about that. But to be honest with you, I thought you’d tell me that you once tried to overthrow the government or nearly started World War III, because you know, I bet you could manage that.”

“You mean that kind of stuff you like to call _a waste of time_?,” Enjolras teased.

Grantaire batted his eyelashes with the most innocent expression. “I don’t recall saying anything like that.” He cleared his throat. “No, you know what, tell me more about the food you hate, we’re less likely to start arguing about that.”

Enjolras laughed, but Grantaire was probably right, maybe it was better to avoid the topic, even though he’d only been teasing, he knew how passionate he could get about it. He sighed. “I can’t stand avocados.”

That, however, initiated a vehement speech about guacamole from Grantaire, and they soon found that arguing about avocados came just as easy to them as arguing about politics did. It seemed like they were opposites in pretty much everything, it was exasperating, at least to a certain extent.

Shortly after they’d passed Springfield, though, their animated discussion stopped abruptly when a raindrop fell on Enjolras’ cheek. And then another, and another.

By the time they’d pulled over (and Grantaire had put his shoes back on) and gotten the roof back up, the rain was coming down heavily on themand when they were both sat back in the car they were soaked to their skins.

Enjolras' hair stuck to his face and little drops kept trickling down. His feet were practically swimming in his shoes and his wet jeans weren't the most comfortable thing either.

“How about we go find a motel and forget about St. Louis for today,” Grantaire muttered, pulling at his wet t-shirt with a miserable face.

“Great idea.”


	5. Chapter 5

“God, I look like I went swimming in my clothes,” Grantaire groaned as he threw a quick glance at the mirror. He shook his hair, sending drops of water flying everywhere.

They’d come across a motel not too much later, and had run to check in through the pouring down rain, not that it mattered, they were still wet to the bone. Grantaire had stood next to him, teeth clattering, while they’d waited to get a room. The air had cooled down a lot with the rain and Enjolras was feeling a bit chilly as well.

The motel itself was a bit too shabby for his taste, but at least it was cheap, he was just hoping that he wouldn’t encounter a cockroach – or something similarly unpleasant – in the shower, or even worse, in his bed.

They didn’t have trouble getting a room with two beds, there’d only been a few cars out in the parking lot, business didn’t seem to be going that well. It was like in a bad road trip movie, really. The vacancy sign outside flickered a little, the wallpaper in their room was coming off the walls, the color of the curtains and the duvets had faded. Generally it all looked like nothing had been changed in decades. At least the roof wasn’t leaky.

Maybe they should have kept searching for a bit longer, instead of just taking the first one that had come along. Anyway, it was too late now.

Enjolras threw his duffle bag on one of the beds, somehow expecting a cloud of dust to rise up, who knew when this room had last been cleaned. Joly would have been appalled.

Grantaire now scampered off to the bathroom, after having told Enjolras he’d have to fight him if he wanted to get the first shower. Enjolras had surrendered compliantly. He stipped down to his boxers and huddled under the blankets to warm up a bit. The TV didn’t even turn on when he gave it a try – not that he was actually surprised at that – so he listened to Grantaire singing in the shower instead. He was sure there wouldn’t have been anything more entertaining on TV anyway.

After a minute, he felt bad for eavesdropping, so he occupied himself with their travel guide that looked like someone had thrown it into a bathtub. He tried to peel the pages apart, but gave up after a bit and put it on the bedside table to dry.

He closed his eyes for a while, until he heard the bathroom door open and Grantaire walked out, a towel carelessly slung around his hip, and hung up his dry clothes over a chair. Enjolras’ eyes wandered over him, involuntarily, but he couldn’t keep himself from staring. He was pale and not overly muscular. Grantaire wasn’t the kind of person to go the gym, but Enjolras could almost see him jogging through Central Park with headphones on and wearing dirty sweatpants.

Grantaire’s eyebrows shot up when he caught him staring. “Are you done looking at my hot body? Because I was planning on getting dressed, but you know, I can just parade around a bit.”

Enjolras tried to come up with a witty answer, but just ended up meekly shaking his head. He could only imagine what a bright shade of red his face probably was, so he just hopped out of bed and quickly made his way to the bathroom, not daring to look at Grantaire.

The hot water of the shower helped him to calm down a bit, he was still utterly embarrassed, though. He couldn’t even remember when he’d last met someone worth looking at, someone who had captured his attention to this extent. Enjolras sighed and leaned his forehead against the cold tiles, steam rising up around him, his mind running in circles.

He’d just have to try not to make things complicated.

Which was easier said than done.

* * *

“How much farther?”

“Do I look like I know? You were the one who asked for directions.” Enjolras huffed. “We should have taken the car.”

“Well, he said it was less than a mile.” Grantaire miserably stared down at his feet. “My shoes are still wet.”

“Who only brings one pair of shoes on a trip, seriously.”

Grantaire didn’t say anything to that, just threw him an annoyed look and kept walking. They hadn’t talked much after Enjolras had come out of the shower, they’d just asked the guy at the reception if there was _any_ place where they could get something to eat and he’d pointed them to a roadhouse, ‘less than a mile’ from the motel. As it had stopped raining and the sun had come out again for a bit, they’d decided to walk.

And they’d been walking for a while now.

It was getting darker, they passed a few houses and then, in the distance, finally, they saw it, sparsely illuminated, a lonely building that looked less than inviting.

“Is that it?” Grantaire’s face fell.

“I’m afraid so.”

They walked in, reluctantly, and were greeted by a mob of people standing around a stage, where two guys were singing Born To Run, off-key, but cheered on by their raging audience. Grantaire let out an excited squeal. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun.”

Enjolras, however, highly doubted that.

The roadhouse was decorated with an impressive amount of old license plates and photos, wooden chairs and tables were crammed on one side, the stage was on the other, a bar in the middle.

They sat down at the bar, ordered burgers, loudly wondering where all the people were coming from, until the barkeeper explained that there was a town nearby and people came here for karaoke night once a week.

Grantaire was basically bouncing up and down on his chair once they’d finished their food. “We should sing.”

“I’m not singing,” Enjolras grumbled. “You can go sing, I’ll sit here and clap for you.”

Of course, Grantaire wouldn’t give up that easily, talking at him for ages, the barkeeper smiling at his effort. After a bit, he put two tequila shots in front of them. “On the house,” he said with a wink. Grantaire pushed both of them over to Enjolras, who shook his head at him.

No way he was getting drunk. Grantaire didn’t seem to care much what he did, though, because he simply shrugged and was off to the stage, where he sang a song Enjolras had never heard before, the crowd, however, wildly cheering for him.

While Grantaire was gone, Enjolras entered a silent staring contest with the two full shot glasses in front of him, contemplating. The last time he’d been drunk was at a party he’d gone to with Combeferre in their freshman year. That was where they’d first met Courfeyrac. Enjolras smiled at the memory, thinking if Courfeyrac were here he’d probably laugh at him because he was being such a sissy.

By the time Grantaire got back to him, he’d downed four tequilas and a pleasant warmth had settled in his stomach. Grantaire seemed a slight bit surprised at seeing the empty glasses in front of him, and patted him on the back. “Finally letting it go a bit, huh?”

“Letting what go?” His voice sounded shakier than he would have liked.

“Just… everything. You’re probably the most tense person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not,” he said, moping.

He ordered one more drink and thirty minutes later he was up on the stage with Grantaire, singing his heart out like he never had before in his life. And he didn’t care. He felt free.

* * *

“Where are you going?” He could hear Grantaire chasing after him.

“I want to lie down, that field looks really nice.” It seemed like a great idea, it would be soft and he was really tired, he just wanted to sleep.

“Yeah, no, that’s not happening.” Grantaire grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him back on the road.

He didn’t know exactly how many drinks he’d had, when he tried to remember his head started to hurt. Everything was moving too fast and still sort of slowly at the same time, he couldn’t really tell. Stars were glinting up in the sky and he stumbled a little as he tried to look up, so Grantaire had to catch him and put his arm firmly around his back and dragged him toward the motel. It had started to drizzle again by the time they made it back.

When Enjolras struggled with the lock of their door, Grantaire made him move to the side and took the key away from him. Enjolras swayed a little and, looking for something to hold on to, leaned against Grantaire and buried his face in his neck, nearly asleep. “I’m glad you came with me,” he whispered, eyelashes fluttering against Grantaire’s skin.

“Me too,” he whispered back and unlocked the door with a quiet click.

Enjolras let Grantaire gently push him into their room, heard the door close behind him, so he turned around to face Grantaire. It was dark, except for the light of a few lamps outside, streaming through the window, illuminating Grantaire’s face with a strange glow. His mind was still hazy, and Grantaire was so close to him, he could see the tiny raindrops in his hair and on his face, his lips. He leaned forward a bit, his hand settling on Grantaire’s hip, inching closer, but Grantaire placed one finger on Enjolras’ lips.

“You’re going to regret this in the morning,” he mumbled quietly. A sad smile hushed over his face as he said it.

Enjolras wanted to protest, wanted to say something, anything at all, but before he could, Grantaire gripped him by the shoulders and cautiously pushed him on his bed, tugging his shoes off for him and wrapping bedsheets around him. Enjolras’ head fell on the pillow; everything felt so heavy, and the world wouldn’t stop spinning.

“Don’t go ‘way,” Enjolras could hear himself mutter. His hand was tightly locked around Grantaire’s wrist. Grantaire let out a frustrated sigh, but Enjolras could feel the mattress shake when he lay down next to him on the bed.

In the morning, he woke up curled around him, their hands intertwined. Enjolras snuggled a little closer, unwilling to open his eyes.

It wasn’t time to properly wake up just yet.


	6. Chapter 6

“You’re awfully quiet today.” Enjolras was staring straight ahead on the road, it was pouring and he could hardly see. His headache wasn’t helping either. He could see Grantaire shift in the passenger seat in the corner of his eye.

“And that’s a problem?” Grantaire didn’t sound grumpy, at least not exactly, but there was an edge to his voice.

“No… it’s just unusual, that’s all,” Enjolras shrugged.

They’d only been driving for about half an hour, and Enjolras had spent every minute trying to find something good to say. Everything he came up with seemed awkward. Looking at Grantaire was awkward, not looking at him was awkward, too.

When he’d woken again in the morning, Grantaire hadn’t been there anymore, he’d been sitting on his own bed, flicking through a magazine. He’d barely said anything, except for a muttered “good morning” and memories of the night before had come rushing back to Enjolras. Right, he’d tried to kiss him. Apparently not his brightest idea.

Instead of apologizing or explaining himself, he’d just quickly packed up his things in total silence and they’d taken off, heading for St. Louis. And they’d remained silent, both of them, Grantaire occasionally glancing over at Enjolras, but never saying a word. He felt increasingly uncomfortable.

The rain kept coming down even heavier, and eventually, Enjolras decided to pull over and wait it out, since it couldn’t take much longer anyway. He hated driving in rain this strong, he wasn’t used to it, and Grantaire didn’t seem to mind that he parked on the shoulder. He still didn’t speak, though.

Enjolras took a deep breath. “Grantaire…,” he trailed off, he still didn’t know what to say. Grantaire was looking at him expectantly, however, so he felt like he had to say _something_. “…you said I was going to regret it,” he mumbled, barely audible over the rain.

Grantaire frowned. “I’m surprised you remember that.”

Actually, there wasn’t much Enjolras didn’t remember. Their way home was a bit blurry in his mind, but everything else he remembered rather vividly. He remembered Grantaire’s arm around him, and how he’d smelled, and how his hair had tickled his nose when he’d lain next to him in bed. And how he’d wanted to kiss him. He still did. He wanted to say that.

He didn’t. He just stared back at Grantaire, who was visibly struggling as well. It was strange, because Grantaire had always been so open, always said what he thought, always voiced his opinion. And Enjolras himself, well, he’d never been lost for words either, but then again, this wasn’t a rally, this wasn’t a speech, this wasn’t anything he’d had to talk about before.

“Listen,” Grantaire then began, “you were drunk and you were finally behaving like a human being and didn’t act like you had a stick up your ass anymore. And yes, maybe you wanted to kiss someone and well, I just happened to be there. It’s not like we have to talk about it, okay, just don’t worry about it.” All Enjolras could do was stare blankly, which seemed to throw Grantaire off a tad. “Or did I get that wrong? Am I being a massive idiot right now?”

Enjolras stared out the window. The rain had nearly stopped.

“Will you please say something.”

“I don’t know what to say, alright, but… I definitely didn’t want to kiss you just because you _happened to be there_.”

“Oh.”

He couldn’t look at Grantaire. He just wanted to disappear. And he tried to understand what he was feeling, because he didn’t know Grantaire, not really, it was all just superficial, it was nothing. Had he met Grantaire somewhere in New York, he probably wouldn’t have bothered talking to him, he didn’t believe in anything and he mocked everything Enjolras stood for. And yet, here they were, half across the country, and it made everything so, so different.

All he knew was that he wanted to be with Grantaire somehow, hold him and kiss him and be as close to him as physically possible. He didn’t care about the rest.

But he couldn’t say it, _why couldn’t he just say it?_

Grantaire put his hand on Enjolras’ and squeezed it a little. He looked up at that. Grantaire was smiling. Not the mocking smile he’d seen so often ever since he’d met him, not the cheerful one either, it had something quite profound about it. It was reassuring.

“Let’s just keep going,” Grantaire said, nodding at the road, “it’s not much further and I’m starving.”

“Okay.” Enjolras had a feeling that this conversation wasn’t over. It was for now, though.

Grantaire turned the radio on and sang along to Black Betty whilst doing a little dance, as best as he could, in his seat.

* * *

Eventually, they made it to St. Louis and walked into the first inexpensive looking restaurant they came across. Enjolras found that Grantaire always seemed to be in a much better mood once he’d gotten something to eat.

“This is probably the best pasta I’ve ever had,” Enjolras said between bites.

“It’s amazing,” Grantaire agreed. “But you’ve never had pasta I cooked, so I’m not sure if you can judge this pasta rightly.”

“Maybe you should make some for me, so I can compare.” He hadn’t even meant to say it, the words had just tumbled out of his mouth.

Gladly, Grantaire appeared to like the idea. “Oh yeah, definitely.” He took another bite and then pushed his plate over to Enjolras. “Here, let’s switch, I want to try yours.”

They didn’t talk again until they were both finished, too busy enjoying their marvelous food.

“So, you go to NYU, right? Do you live in Manhattan then?”

Grantaire laughed. “Man, I wish, I live in the tiniest apartment in Brooklyn, I take the train to college.” He sat back and looked at Enjolras, a smile playing around his lips. “But you do, don’t you?”

“Well, my parents sort of own the apartment I live in, and it’s just really convenient. I live pretty close to Columbia, with my friend Combeferre.”

Enjolras was thinking about Combeferre now, it was probably evening in Paris. He was wondering what he would think if he could see him now, on the road with a guy he’d only met days before. He’d probably be happy for him, glad that he’d taken his advice and got out of the city, but he’d also tell him to be careful. That reminded him that he should probably text Courfeyrac to let him know that he was still alive. He could do that later.

“Could have guessed that from your car probably, I mean it is a very nice car and people with very nice cars usually have very nice apartments, too. And still you fight for the little people, how noble.”

Enjolras shot him a dark look, knowing he should ignore that remark, but he just couldn’t. “Just because I come from a well-off family doesn’t mean I don’t see what’s wrong with our society.”

“But you have no idea what it’s like, Enjolras, how can you help them, you have your ideals, but that’s not necessarily what people _need_.”

He was sure there was a great answer to this, but he couldn’t think of it, he couldn’t have even if his life had depended on it, because although Grantaire was still staring him down from the other side of the table, eyes narrowed and stubborn, under the table, his foot was brushing against Enjolras’ legs, banishing every coherent thought from his mind. “Can you stop doing that, I’m trying to argue with you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The grin that spread over Grantaire’s face was wicked.

“I have a feeling that you’re really not.”

“Ah, you already know me so well.” He didn’t stop either.

Enjolras made an attempt not to like the way this argument had gone, because technically Grantaire had gotten the last word, but he couldn’t bring himself to care just now.

* * *

They went to see Gateway Arch, where Enjolras snapped a photo of Grantaire and himself to send to Courfeyrac, thinking it was probably about time that he mentioned that he wasn’t travelling on his own anymore.

So Grantaire asked about his friends, and Enjolras told him some stories about their meetings and how he’d gotten to know all of them, avoiding anything to do with demonstrations and the like, except for when he told him about some of Courf’s most imaginative signs. Grantaire and Courfeyrac would probably get along just fine. He’d have to introduce them once they got back to New York.

They wandered around the city all day, refraining from buying silly souvenirs, even though Grantaire was more than tempted (“You know, one day we’ll tell people about this trip and no one will believe us because we don’t have overpriced souvenirs to prove it.”).

When they walked out of the store empty-handed, they started debating whether they should spend the night in the city or just keep going. “I mean, it’s probably cheaper to just find a motel somewhere,” Enjolras mused. He didn’t have to worry about money, not really, but he wasn’t so sure about Grantaire.

“I really don’t care, and stop looking at me like that, I have enough money, if that’s what you’re worried about. But yeah, I mean the sooner we move on, the sooner we’ll get to California.”

They stayed in the city until after sundown, got something to eat for dinner, and spent the last two hours or so perched on a bench, Enjolras’ arm around Grantaire’s shoulders, watching the people that walked by. It was nice to just sit around, usually he wouldn’t have the patience to just sit and stare, he always had work to do, but having Grantaire sit next to him was more than enough for now.

Later, when they got back to the car, Enjolras unlocked the doors, then hesitated for a second. He sighed and then, with a smile, offered the keys to Grantaire. “Do you want to drive?”


	7. Chapter 7

Grantaire simply stared at him for a moment, looking sort of incredulous. "As much as I appreciate that you'd let me drive," he said, glancing at the car, "but I don't have a license. And I’ve never driven a car in my life, so that’s probably not the best of ideas."

"Oh." Well, that was unexpected.

"Man, I grew up in Brooklyn," Grantaire said, and went to sit in the passenger seat, "seriously, why would I need to."

Enjolras got into the car and shrugged. "Yeah, you're right. It's a pity, though, I'd love to just doze off for a bit like you always do."

Grantaire only smirked. Again, Enjolras found himself thinking that he was lucky to have Grantaire with him. Travelling wouldn't be the same without him, and he liked how his stuff was spread all over the backseat, and that he was so passionate about food and would sometimes talk about nothing else for an hour, and that he apparently knew every song on the radio and that he sang along to each and every one of them.

“Where next?,” Enjolras asked when Grantaire started looking through their guide again. It still looked a little crumpled from when it had dried after getting rained on.

“I don’t know, maybe Tulsa or Oklahoma City?” Grantaire was flicking through the pages and eventually closed the book. “Let’s just go and stop whenever we see something that might be interesting.”

Enjolras nodded. He kept driving, glancing over at Grantaire every now and then. He was obviously making a point of _not_ dozing off, humming along to the radio and looking out the window at the darkness outside. If he wasn’t singing he was humming, and Enjolras had noticed early on that silence was a bad sign with Grantaire. This morning for instance.

He was glad that they’d managed to talk about it, but he still felt somewhat anxious, like everything he did could mess everything up again in a heartbeat. He looked over again. Grantaire was tracing the bruised knuckles of his one hand with the fingers of the other. It hadn’t even been two days since they’d left Chicago and the bruises were still clearly visible on his pale skin.

“How’s your hand?”

“Fine.” Grantaire grinned. “Seriously, I told you, it could be so much worse.”

And still, Enjolras couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. It wasn’t liked he’d asked Grantaire to do it, but he felt like it was his fault anyhow.

Grantaire must have seen the look on his face, because he patted him on the thigh. “You worry too much.”

Enjolras tried really hard to convince himself that his heart hadn’t just skipped a beat when Grantaire had touched him. “There are a lot of things to worry about,” he managed to choke out.

“Yeah, but sometimes you just have to let it all slide, you know, be spontaneous.”

The problem was that Enjolras simply didn’t like being spontaneous. He liked having plans, he liked making plans and he liked seeing his plans realised.

But maybe Grantaire was right. He shook his head and made a decision.

He drove off the Interstate at the next exit.

“Where are you going?” Grantaire sounded more curious than concerned.

“You’ll see,” he mumbled.

He didn’t stop the car until they’d reached a completely deserted country road, hardly big enough to fit two cars next to each other, with wide fields to each side of it and only few trees lining the road.

“Please tell me you’re not going to murder me,” Grantaire whispered, but still with a smirk on his face.

“Shh, I’m trying to be spontaneous,” he said, and got out of the car. “Come on, let’s switch places, I’ll teach you how to drive.”

Grantaire only stared at him, still seated, his blue eyes wide, obviously taken aback. “Are you serious?”

“I think so,” he said, with a lopsided smile. The minute he’d pulled over he’d thought it was a terrible idea, he couldn’t just let Grantaire drive his car without a license. And yet again, he was also trying to take Grantaire’s advice, because he seemed like he’d never been worried about anything in his entire life.

He waited for Grantaire to go sit in the driver’s seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

“Okay,” Enjolras said, once he was settled, “it’s really not that hard, first you start the car, it’s in park now, and before you switch to drive you have to put your foot on the break.”

“Right,” Grantaire muttered and followed his instructions. Once the car was running he looked over. “What now, just let go of the break?”

“Yeah.” And Grantaire did and the car started rolling, very slowly. “You might also want to accelerate a bit... gently.”

“Ahh, I’m driving.” Grantaire was laughing, while creeping down the road slowly, Enjolras laughing along with him. He was obviously concentrating very hard, it probably would have been easier if it hadn’t been the middle of the night. “Hey, what’s that over there?,” Grantaire asked after a while. “Is that a lake?”

“I suppose...” The moon being the only light – except for the car’s headlights – it was nearly too dark to see, but when they got closer they saw the calm surface of a small lake. Grantaire stopped at a small parking area, hitting the break a bit too abruptly, and jumped out of the car. Enjolras followed on his heels.

“I have a great idea,” Grantaire whispered. His eyes were glinting and Enjolras could imagine that idea of his, he wasn’t sure if he liked it.

“What if it’s private property?”

“Dude, there’s parking spaces and picnic tables, I’m pretty sure it’s not private property.” Grantaire was already pulling his clothes and shoes off. When he’d stripped down to his boxers he gave Enjolras a little nudge. “Come on.”

He winked and with that he ran into the lake, diving in head first, splashing water everywhere.

It took Enjolras a few minutes to follow.

The water wasn’t too cold, and he swam around in circles a little, his eyes never leaving Grantaire, who was trying to keep himself afloat on the water. His skin seemed even more pale in the moonlight. Enjolras swam a little closer, smiling, and finally made a jump and sent a small wave washing over him, which eventually made him lose his balance. Once Grantaire came up again, he tried to pull Enjolras down with him.

It was shallow enough to stand, though, so Grantaire didn’t quite succeed. And now he was so close again, suddenly completely still, eyes hushing over his face. Enjolras could see a drop of water at the tip of his nose, saw that he was smiling, with his lips parted slightly. And Enjolras’ heart was hammering in his chest, his breath came quickly, and he wasn’t sure if it was from their little fight or if it was because their foreheads were nearly touching.

It was like the night before – could it really only have been yesterday, it felt like a lifetime ago – only this time Enjolras was completely sober, completely aware of what was happening. One of Grantaire’s hands, the bruised one, snuck around his neck to pull him closer, so he could whisper in his ear.

“Do you still want to kiss me?”

“Yes.” It sounded entirely too breathless, too desperate, but he didn’t care.

And Grantaire kissed him. Lightly and only once, it was over too fast. And then he let go off him, a wicked grin spreading over his face, and waded through the water back toward the car, turning around twice, as if to check if Enjolras was following him. He did, eventually, after he’d spent a minute wondering where all this was going to lead.

He finally joined him and Grantaire was drying off with what suspiciously looked like a towel from the motel they’d stayed at the night before. When they were both dried off, Grantaire made himself comfortable on the backseat of the car, pushing everything that was on it onto the floor. While Grantaire was complaining because it was too damn dark, Enjolras checked his phone. He had a text from Courfeyrac.

It simply read _keep him_.

“Care to join me?,” Grantaire asked from inside the car.

Enjolras smiled, threw his phone on the passenger seat and crawled on the backseat, settling half on top of Grantaire who immediately put his arms around him. He leant against him, his wet hair soaking Grantaire’s shirt, and struggling to somehow find a good place to put his feet in the narrow space they shared.

“We should have put the top down, I bet you can see the stars out here,” Grantaire mumbled into his hair.

Enjolras grumbled. “I’m not getting up again.”

Grantaire laughed at that and started trailing his fingers up and down Enjolras’ back. He probably should be exhausted, but Grantaire’s mere presence kept him awake, the rise and fall of his chest right underneath him and the way he ran his fingers through his still damp hair.

He was humming a tune Enjolras faintly recognized, but he couldn’t remember where he’d heard it before.

Enjolras only fell asleep when he could hear Grantaire snoring softly and his hand had come to a rest on his hip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> excuse me while I invent lakes and roads along Route 66


	8. Chapter 8

“Stop it, I’m trying to read,” Enjolras mumbled and batted Grantaire’s hand away.

They’d made it to Oklahoma and had luckily found a motel that had washing mashing for its guests to use, because both of them were slowly but surely running out of clean clothes. They’d had to get the key for the room from the manager, who’d been friendly enough. There was only one washing machine, and also a dryer, both crammed into a small room along with a couch and a small coffee table.

They were both sat on the dusty couch, Granaire upright, reading a magazine about surfing he’d found lying on the coffee table. God knows why someone had left it there, probably because the ocean was about 1500 miles away. Enjolras had taken what had been left on the coffee table, namely some cheesy romance novel, wish a cover that, according to Grantaire, would make every sane person’s eyes bleed. He was leaning against Grantaire, tired but completely engrossed in the book, and as stupid as it was, he couldn’t put it down. Grantaire, however, didn’t seem too interested in his magazine and his hand kept sneaking down Enjolras’ chest, down to his jeans, and that was usually when Enjolras grabbed his hand to hold it still. Every time he let go, Grantaire started another attempt.

He quite obviously liked to tease him. Grantaire hadn’t kissed him again, hadn’t even tried. But he took to touching him a lot more than he had before, interlaced their hands while Enjolras was driving, so he had one hand on the wheel and the other one was in Grantaire’s grasp and he put his hand on the small of his back when they were standing next to each other. Right now he was being a lot less subtle.

“Oh come on, that’s probably the worst book on the planet,” Grantaire said, his hand slowly making its way under Enjolras’ shirt. He left it there, burning against his skin.

Enjolras sighed and put the book down. Grantaire seemed to be happy to have his undivided attention. “Do you want to keep going later?,” he asked. His other had came up to play with his curls.

“I don’t know, I’m knackered and my back still hurts from sleeping in the car.” He let his head fall back against Grantaire’s chest, so he could look up at him a bit better. “Not that you’re not a formidable pillow.” He could see Grantaire smile.

He was wearing his beanie. It was terribly hot outside, but he’d found it squished between the door and the backseat in the morning and he’d been wearing it ever since. “Why don’t you just sleep for a bit, hm? It’s still another hour until the laundry is done.”

He wanted to protest, but he was unbelievably tired. They’d only slept for a couple of hours, until the sun had come up. He also much preferred lying here on the couch instead of the narrow backseat of his car.

Grantaire kept playing with his hair as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Enjolras was on the phone with Courfeyrac when Grantaire came in through the door with a large pizza box in his hands. He opened his mouth to say something, but saw that Enjolras was talking on the phone, so he closed the door silently and went to sit on his bed, eyes on him as he paced around the room.

“Well, you could make it back in time,” Courfeyrac said, drawing Enjolras’ attention back to the phone call.

“Yes, of course I could, but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t do it instead.”

“Man, what the hell, not that not I’m happy that you trust me with this, but the Enjolras I know would already be in his car and on the way home.” Enjolras remained silent. “It’s about that guy you met, isn’t it?”

He sighed. “No it’s not, I just know that you can handle this and there’s no reason for me to drive back right now. I’m in Oklahoma, for God’s sake.” He noticed Grantaire shifting on the bed, throwing him a concerned look.

“Whatever you say, man. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thanks.” He ended the call and went to sit next to Grantaire, who still looked a bit worried.

“Something wrong?,” Grantaire asked, trying to sound casual. He opened the box and handed Enjolras a slice of pizza.

He took a bite of his pizza and shrugged. “Our group got a last minute invite to a charity event and Courfeyrac wants me to come home.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not going,” Enjolras reassured him.

“But you want to.” It wasn’t a question.

Of course he wanted to. That little group of his was his life and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for them. And yet, he felt weirdly removed from everything. He was sitting in a motel in Oklahoma with a guy he’d picked up on the road, eating mediocre pizza and New York was far, far away. Some part of him wanted to drive home as fast as possible, but another part just never wanted to go back.

He’d somehow forgotten what being alive felt like, he’d poured all of his energy into his work and he was proud of what he’d accomplished, but he’d let his work become his life and maybe that had been a mistake. “I honestly don’t know,” he said at last. He put his half-eaten slice of pizza back in the box, he wasn’t hungry anymore all of a sudden.

He sunk back on the bed, arm crossed over his chest. Grantaire didn’t speak, just ate his pizza and Enjolras was grateful for the silence. He closed his eyes and tried to think. All he could concentrate on, however, was Grantaire sitting next to him on the mattress, nervously shifting every now and then. After a while, he could hear him set the pizza box on the bedside table and felt Grantaire lie down next to him.

At that, he opened his eyes and turned his head. Grantaire was close, lying on his side, only inches from him. “You should go,” he said, with a small smile.

“But what about you?”

“Ah, don’t worry about me, I’ll find someone else to take me to California.” He looked sad, saying it, but then his face lit up. “Or I could go back to New York with you, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I’ll think about it.” Enjolras glanced at Grantaire, who looked so sincere, and he had a feeling that he really, genuinely didn’t care where they would be going as long as he could go with him. Enjolras was pretty sure, though, that going back to New York would ruin whatever it was they had fairly quickly. He’d go back to his work and then to college and he wouldn’t have time for anything. He could make time, surely, but it was so much easier to get to know each other here, well removed from everything that could possibly interfere.

“Do you want to see if there’s a really stupid movie on TV?,” Grantaire then asked and grabbed for the remote.

Enjolras nodded. It was a miracle that the TV was even working, they hadn’t been that lucky in previous motels. They decided on some weird 70s family movie that was about as cheesy as that romance novel they’d found earlier that day. Grantaire kept commenting on the plot holes and the _interesting_ hairstyle of some of the characters. Enjolras didn’t have the slightest idea what was even happening in the film, except for what he got out of Grantaire’s ridiculous commentary. “This is the most hilarious thing I’ve ever seen, I swear. God, I love bad movies from the 70s and 80s they never disappoint.”

He could imagine Grantaire at his apartment in New York, appalled because he only owned four DVDs, forcing him to watch the worst movies he could find. He liked that thought more than he would admit.

In the course of the movie Grantaire somehow managed to fold himself around Enjolras without him noticing and eventually his head was resting on Enjolras’ chest and his arms and feet were wrapped around him. By the end of it, he was fast asleep,  and their legs were tangled and Grantaire had a tight grip of his shirt, so Enjolras tried wrap the duvet around them as best as he could without waking him up.

He switched off the lamp next to his bed and in the darkness his thoughts wandered back to New York. He’d decide what to do in the morning.


	9. Chapter 9

Enjolras was driving, slightly over the speed limit, on the nearly empty Interstate. It was still early in the morning.

He had the top down, the sun was shining down on him, there were good songs playing on the radio.

He briefly glanced at the empty seat beside him. This wasn’t right.

He’d got up early, Grantaire still sleeping soundly on his bed, packed his things, tried to call Courfeyrac and when he hadn’t picked up, decided that the right thing to do would be to go back to New York.

Grantaire had woken up to him packing and had looked at him with tired eyes. “You’re going back,” he’d said, and his disappointed had been so obvious, so plainly written all over his face.

“I have to,” he’d answered.

Grantaire had only shaken his head at that, suddenly looking exasperated, and mumbled, “No, you don’t.” He’d started gathering his possessions as well, Enjolras watching him, wondering why he suddenly seemed so annoyed. The day before he’d said he would go back with him, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Grantaire had said, eyes narrowed. He’d pulled on his beanie and started walking toward the door and then suddenly turned around. “You know, maybe I should just keep going to California on my own.”

Enjolras had huffed. “Right, well, it that is what you want, then that’s your decision.” He still didn’t understand, and quite frankly, he didn’t even want to try. He was still angry, but mostly because he hadn’t even tried to convince Grantaire to come with him.

“Yeah damn right it is.” Grantaire had yanked the door open and stomped outside.

And now Enjolras was on his own again. And no one was singing along to horrible songs on the radio. It was too quiet. He hadn’t even asked where Grantaire was going to go, to a bus stop or back on the road to hitchhike, and he felt like he’d somehow let him down, even though he didn’t know how and why.

He was going in the wrong direction.

He pulled over at the next gas station and bought breakfast. He remembered the day they met, Grantaire so generously paying for his breakfast. He was restlessly tapping his foot on the ground, trying to eat his waffles, but somehow he couldn’t take another bite.  Eventually, he took his phone out of his pocket and called Courfeyrac.

He didn’t even give him time to say anything when he picked up. “Courf, how much do you need me to be around for that charity thing?”

“What?,” Courfeyrac mumbled sleepily.

“Are you guys going to die without me there?,” Enjrolas said very slowly.

“No man, we have everything under control, I have a suit and everything, don’t worry. You said you wanted me to take care of it, so I’m taking care of it.” After a pause, he added, “I mean, we’d love to have you here, obviously, but as you pointed out so many times, you’re _in Oklahoma_.”

“Right,” Enjolras said, rubbing his face. Courfeyrac sounded a lot more determined than the day before, maybe he’d misinterpreted his reluctance, maybe there had been no need for him to take off so quickly. “I have to go, thanks a lot for handling all that.”

Five minutes later he was back on the Interstate, heading back to where he’d come from, keeping his eyes out for a lonely figure wandering at the side of the road.

* * *

He’d been beating himself up for most of the ride, mostly because he’d been such an idiot, until he found Grantaire, who was, as Enjolras had guessed, trying to hitch a ride. He pulled over instantly, but Grantaire kept walking even when he saw him.

Enjolras left his car parked on the shoulder and walked after him. “What is your problem?,” he yelled after him. “Yesterday you said it would be fine with you if I wanted to go back.”

Grantaire turned around, his eyes cold, arms crossed over his chest. “Yes, I did say that, didn’t I, but I thought that you wanted to, but you only think it’s your goddamned duty.”

“Why is it such a terrible thing that I want to help my friends out?”

It must have been a funny thing to look at, the both of them yelling each other at the side of the road. Grantaire walked back toward him. “Enjolras, don’t you get it, you need to stop trying to be a hero, you’re so willing to sacrifice everything for others, you forget to think about yourself every now and then, isn’t that why you left in the first place? Because you needed this for yourself?”

He didn’t know what to say. Grantaire was right. Of all the things he’d said that Enjolras didn’t agree with, finally he’d said something that was absolutely right. He needed this break, he wasn’t ready to go back, not even a bit. And now that he knew that Courfeyrac would take care of everything for sure, he knew that he didn’t have to.

Grantaire took another step forward, he could have reached out to touch him. Kiss him. “It’s okay to be selfish every now and then, you know,” Grantaire muttered.

Enjolras looked down at his feet, at his sneakers and Grantaire’s battered converse.

“Let’s go to California.” It almost sounded like a plea. “Let’s go together.” Grantaire took his hand.

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s all you have to say?”

“I’m sorry?,” Enjolras tried with an uneasy smile.

“You’re hopeless,” Grantaire said, shaking his head.

“And you’re infuriating,” he answered, but with a smile playing around his lips.

They didn’t go far that day, they stopped when they got to Tulsa, and checked into a hotel. Enjolras tried to explain what he’d agreed on with Courfeyrac.

“So basically you came back to get me?” Grantaire sat on one of the beds, eyes following a pacing Enjolras around the room.

“Yeah, basically.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

Enjolras shrugged. “I probably deserved it for just taking off.”

“That’s not what I yelled at you for,” Grantaire pointed out. “But whatever, can we stop arguing now, I’m starving.”

* * *

After they’d gotten something to eat and spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the city, carefully distanced, Grantaire tried to find out what they could do in the evening and found a small club where some local band would be playing.

“We should go,” he said, beaming.

“They’re going to be terrible, Grantaire.”

“ _Exactly_.”

Apparently Grantaire didn’t only love horrible movies, but also took a liking to listen to horrible bands.

Surprisingly, there was quite a large crowd gathered in the club. The stage was small, people were maneuvering their way through the audience with beers in their hands, and there were posters of past events stuck to the walls, promoting bands neither of them had ever heard of. They went to stand in a corner in the back, the audience eagerly cheering, although the gig hadn’t even started yet. Enjolras had never been too fond of concerts, and he was beginning to wonder why he’d agreed to this. Grantaire, on the other hand, seemed to be having a blast and bounced up and down excitedly. He stood closer to Enjolras than he had all day.

When the band started playing Enjolras was more than ready to leave. They probably were some college band, entirely too loud and entirely too convinced of themselves and playing way too many ballads about unrequited love.

He voiced his opinion, which was only met with a firm “shut up” from Grantaire, who then leaned against him, while the lead singer was blaring something especially soppy. With Grantaire’s weight against him and his hair tickling his cheek, Enjolras felt he didn’t care too much about the music anymore. Something was right between them again and that was all he needed for now.

Once during the show, Grantaire left to go to the bathroom and Enjolras felt extremely awkward standing there alone, although no one could see him, since he was in the very back and no one ever turned around. When Grantaire came back he put his arm on his back, casually, carefully avoided looking at him, and Enjolras leaned into the touch, so Grantaire would keep his hand there. It kept sliding downward, though, slowly, making Enjolras hold his breath. When he looked over at Grantaire, he could see that he tried to keep his eyes on the band, but a smile spread across his face and finally he looked over and winked.

Grantaire had apparently gone back to teasing him. He didn’t mind at all.

When they walked back to their hotel, Grantaire gave him a complete review of the show, analyzing songs and all, which had Enjolras asking himself how he could even remember. Anyway, he was glad to be outside now, it had been terribly hot in the tiny club and Grantaire’s hand on his ass hadn’t been helping one bit.

“Seriously, I was on the verge of tears,” Granaire whispered as Enjolras unlocked the door to their room. “Especially when he kept dedicating the songs to _a very special person_.” They were both giggling when they stumbled into the room.

 A bit later, Enjolras buried himself in his bed, he barely heard Grantaire rummaging in the bathroom. He did notice, however, when Grantaire crawled into bed next to him. “Why are we still getting rooms with two beds?,” Grantaire mumbled as he pulled the sheets up.

Enjolras didn’t answer, just scooted over to make space for him, then switched the light off and closed his eyes. He was awfully aware of Grantaire next to him, wishing he’d come a little closer, but at the same time unsure what he’d do if he actually did. When he thought Grantaire was already asleep, he found his hand under the covers. It felt strange to be so close to someone he’d known for only a week, and yet it also felt strangely right.

Grantaire squeezed his hand lightly when his fingers curled around it.

Had he opened his eyes, he could have seen him smile faintly in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is ooc, because obviously Enjolras would go back to New York in a heartbeat but I need them to go to California.  
> I need it for my personal happiness.  
> Okay.  
> (also thanks for all the nice comments you're all wonderful.)


	10. Chapter 10

“Do you mind if we just drive for a couple of hours today?” Enjolras peeked out of the bathroom. Grantaire was still in bed, looking back at him sleepily. It was nearly noon and he couldn’t believe that one person could sleep so much. Grantaire would probably sleep all day if he let him.

“Sure, whatever you want,” Grantaire said, hugging his pillow, and closed his eyes again.

“Maybe you should get up then.” He walked out of the bathroom and started getting dressed.

“Hmm, in five minutes,” Grantaire mumbled into the pillow and wrapped himself in the bedsheets until all Enjolras see were dark curls sticking up from his head.

He sat on the bed and bent over Grantaire. “No, right now.”

“Make me,” Grantaire muttered into the pillow.

Enjolras, already bent over him, just let himself drop on top of Grantaire, who let out a sound of surprise, but remained completely still, with Enjolras splayed out on top of him. Enjolras, quite enjoying his current position, turned to playing with Grantaire’s tangled hair, his fingernails occasionally scraping over his skull. He could feel Grantaire shiver underneath him.

“We could just stay in bed all day,” Grantaire mused and shifted under Enjorlas, so he slid off him. Grantaire then wiggled out of the sheets he’d wrapped around himself as best as he could and turned around so they were face to face on the bed, only inches from each other. He ran his hand up Enjolras’ thigh, and came to a rest at his hip, pulled him closer and kissed him quickly. “We could do this all day,” he whispered and kissed him again, longer this time, until Enjolras felt slightly out of breath and pulled away.

“But we have places to go,” Enjolras mumbled and Grantaire buried his head in his neck with a sigh. Enjolras smiled. “We can stay in bed all day when we’re back in New York.”

Grantaire stiffened next to him. “Right,” he said eventually and sat up. “I’ll just take a quick shower, then we can go.”

When he was left lying on the bed alone, Enjolras began to think that the idea of staying in bed all day now seemed quite appealing.

* * *

They’d left Tulsa early in the afternoon, with a full tank of gas, some sandwiches and a bag full of candy that Grantaire had insisted on buying and was now eating noisily. He was lying on the back seat, feet propped up on the car, eyes half-closed.

Enjolras had parked the car at a rest area, just to stretch his legs. They’d been driving for nearly five hours, and his feet felt like jelly. He was really wishing Grantaire could just drive for a bit, but he wouldn’t risk getting caught. At least they’d made it to Texas. It was impossibly hot, even though the car was parked in the shade, next to one of the few trees. He could see little pearls of sweat on Grantaire’s face.

He leaned against the car next to Grantaire’s feet. “Are you ready to go?”

Grantaire looked up at him. “We should have a picnic.”

“A picknick? Here? We don’t have anything to eat.”

Grantaire wordlessly held up his bag of candy. “And we also have some sandwiches left.” He sat up and then jumped out of the car. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” He started collecting all food he could find, and ordered Enjolras to get two bottles of water out of the trunk. When he was done he walked to the nearest tree that cast its shadow on the field of dried up grass that stretched out behind the rest area.

Somewhat reluctant, Enjolras followed him and sat next to him on the grass. Grantaire handed him a sandwich. When he wasn’t occupied with his food anymore he looked over at Grantaire. “So, this is fun?”

Grantaire shot him an exasperated look. “Obviously. I mean, is there anything you’d rather do right now?”

“Yeah, I’d like to be in a motel with air conditioning and a nice, comfortable bed.”

“Ah, you’re boring,” Grantaire said, shaking his head.

He stretched out on the grass then, with his head in Enjolras’ lap and his eyes closed. He lay completely still, arms folded over his chest, lips slightly parted. Enjolras had never wanted to kiss him as much as he did in this moment. However, he didn’t want to destroy this image of absolute ease, and merely placed his hand on Grantaire’s left shoulder, which earned him a happy sigh.

“You know, we could just stay here and wait for the stars to come out, I bet you can see them out here, there aren’t any towns around here,” Grantaire mumbled.

Enjolras hummed in agreement and Grantaire’s hand came up to wrap around his. A couple of cars stopped at the rest area, none for too long, so for the most part they were undisturbed in their silence.

“Can I ask you something?,” Enjolras said after a while.

“Sure,” Grantaire replied, and squeezed his hand. “Anything you want.”

“Don’t get mad, it’s just something I’ve been thinking about.”

“Why would I get mad?” Grantaire’s eyes opened and he stared up at him questioningly.

“I guess it’s sort of personal?”

“Just ask.”

Enjolras paused for a second. There was no point in trying to find a less direct way of asking this. “Why aren’t you drinking?”

“Ah, right, I knew you’d ask at some point. Well, I’ll spare you the nasty details,” Grantaire said matter-of-factly, and sat up, so he was sitting right in front of Enjolras, but facing away from him. “I was drinking a lot, especially back in high school, and since I didn’t want to fuck my life up completely, I quit, end of story.” He stubbornly stared straight ahead.

“You don’t want to talk about it.”

“No,” Grantaire agreed, “I really don’t.”

“I shouldn’t have asked.” Enjolras wished he could take it back. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Grantaire sighed. “My dad was a heavy drinker, it was normal to me, so I started early, I only saw what it did to my mom as I got older.” His thumb dragged idly over Enjolras’ hand as he spoke. “I knew when it was time to stop, he didn’t. My mum threw him out a couple of years ago, I haven’t seen him ever since.” There wasn’t even a flicker of emotion in his voice, it was like he was telling someone else’s story and not his own.

“Grantaire…” He didn’t know what to say, nothing seemed appropriate.

“It’s not like I miss him, he never thought I was good for anything. Art wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t good enough.”

Enjolras found himself thinking of the napkin Grantaire had doodled on back in Chicago, the one he’d given to him, he still had it somewhere, tucked away in his bag. He remembered how impressed he had been. And the day they’d met, when he’d offered to pay his breakfast. He also thought about the million things they had argued about, about how they never agreed and then about the day he’d held his hand all the way up to the Skydeck. He slid closer to Grantaire and put his arms around him from behind. He kissed his neck and finally Grantaire eased back into his touch, leaned back and let his head fall against Enjolras’ shoulder.

"I'm so glad I met you," Enjolras said eventually. Grantaire didn't answer, only turned his head to kiss him.

They stayed until the stars came out, and Grantaire started pointing up at the night sky, whispering names of constellations Enjolras had never heard of. Cars passed by every now and then, but except for that the world was completely still around them.

Maybe there was no rush after all. In a couple of days they would reach California. They hadn’t talked about how long they’d stay or if they’d go back to New York together. He dreaded talking about those things, and also the thought of going back home, so he hugged Grantaire a little tighter and tried not to think about it too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is shorter than my chapters usually are, I hope you liked it anyway  
> (I'll try to update as soon as I can but exams are starting in a few weeks so I won't have too much time)


	11. Chapter 11

“Are we there yet?”

“If you say it one more time I’ll let you walk there, I swear to God.”

“Are you sure we’re not lost? Because I’m pretty sure we should have been there about ten hours ago.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a tiny bit, but I’m going to die in this heat.”

“Great, maybe then you’ll stop asking me if we’re there yet.” That earned him a playful smack on his arm from Grantaire.

 They were north of Flagstaff, where they’d spent the night. The night before they’d stayed somewhere east of Albuquerque, Enjolras tried not to remember the motel from hell they’d slept at. In between, they’d spent hours on the road, talking about their families and their lives and their friends and about college and their favourite places in New York. Courfeyrac had texted Enjolras a couple of times, letting him know how much they didn’t need him, and he was glad. Mostly.

The reason why they were going north now, instead of west toward California, was because Grantaire had woke him up the night before, at around 2:30 in the morning.

“Enjolras,” he’d whispered, nose ghosting along the line of his neck. “I just had an idea.”

He’d pried his eyes open to see how late it was and groaned. “Tell me in the morning, preferably when the sun is up.”

“No, no, don’t fall asleep again, it’s a great idea, listen… did you know the Grand Canyon is only about 80 miles from here, we could go there, who knows when we come back here, or _if_ we come back here, what do you think?”

Wondering how Grantaire could be so wide awake at this hour, knowing he wouldn’t manage to get him out of bed in the morning, Enjolras had sighed. He’d had no idea how Grantaire had come up with that just now in the middle of the night, but still, he’d liked the idea. “Hmm, yeah, we should do that.”

“Okay, good.” Enjolras had heard the smile in his voice. “You can sleep now,” he’d added, his hand running through Enjolras’ hair once before he settled down to sleep.

Enjolras had been asleep again within a minute.

Anyway, now they were going north. They’d been driving for over an hour, it was unbearably hot and it didn’t help that Grantaire apparently thought behaving like a petulant child was funny. He was now playing with an empty water bottle and Enjolras was genuinely hoping they’d get there soon because otherwise he’d go crazy. It wasn’t even Grantaire’s fault that he was in such a bad mood, the heat was making him cranky.

On the bright side, Grantaire had stopped asking if they were there yet. For now, at least.

They arrived at the South Rim not too much later. It was teeming with groups of tourists, desperate tour guides that tried to keep their groups together, frantically waving flags whilst shouting in different languages.

Enjolras took his bag out of the trunk and filled it with a few sandwiches and water bottles and waited for Grantaire to clamber out of the car. Grantaire’s hand was sweaty when he took his and dragged him toward the viewing platform. Enjolras found that he didn’t care much.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?,” Grantaire said quietly as he leant against the railing at the edge of the platform.

Enjolras looked at him, with his silly green sunglasses and his ratty band shirt, beads of sweat on his forehead, a light breeze ruffling his hair where it didn’t stick to his head, and then at the canyon that stretched out beyond them. “Yeah,” he nodded.

“It looks like a painting, like it’s just a canvas right in front of us, I feel like I can stretch out my hand and touch it, it’s surreal.”

“I’m glad we came here.”

“Ah, I’m glad you don’t have that frown stuck on your face anymore,” Grantaire said with a smile. “I was worried you’d be grumpy all day.”

“I wasn’t grumpy,” Enjolras protested.

Grantaire threw him a look that said _yeah sure you weren’t_ and then had to retreat from the railing to make place for a group of very enthusiastic tourists that excitedly babbled along and somehow managed to get Grantaire to take a picture of them without speaking a single word of English. Enjolras sat down on a rock to wait for Grantaire and watched him banter with them, although he was pretty sure that they understood only half of what he was saying.

Grantaire joined him a few minutes later with a wide grin plastered on his face as he looked out at the canyon. “Man I wish I’d brought my sketchbook.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well, I didn’t know I’d find my very personal chauffeur on the road, so I only brought what I really needed and I figured I’d be okay without it.” He sighed, but the grin on his face didn’t fade. “Do you have a pen?”

“Hm, I think so.” Enjolras pulled a black pen out of his bag. “Not sure if it works, though.”

“Oh, we’ll see,” Grantaire mumbled and took hold of Enjolras’ left arm. And then he started drawing, the cap of the pen between his lips, and a vast landscape started to appear on the inside of Enjolras’ arm, the tip of the pen tickling his skin there. When Grantaire was done, it looked far from perfect, it was smudged in places, but it was undeniably the Canyon that stretched out infinitely in front of them. He made it look so easy, and Enjolras envied him, all he could do was draw mediocre stick men. He’d never been much of an artist.

Grantaire stretched his hand out to Enjolras. “Come on, let’s take some stupid selfies to document our marvelous journey.”

Which they did, until they’d finished all the water they’d brought and both couldn’t take the heat anymore, and so decided to go back south to find a motel. Grantaire insisted on taking a picture lying down on the Grand Canyon National Park sign before they took off, and afterwards thrust his phone in the hands of some random stranger, asking him to take a picture, grabbed Enjolras by his shirt and they both sat on the sign, legs crossed, Grantaire’s head leaning against Enjolras’ shoulder.

They didn’t pull the top down again for the drive back south. Enjolras was pretty desperate for a shower and he was almost certain that Grantaire wouldn’t mind one either, but he wanted to make it back to their original route before they checked into a motel, which meant about two hours in the car and he didn’t feel like having the sun burning on the top of his head until they found a place to stay.

Grantaire seemed to grow bored again after they’d been driving for a while, although he kept humming along to the radio, he now started plucking off the label of an empty water bottle. Enjolras threw him a pained look and he stopped instantly.

“Sorry, I’m stopping, see, don’t look all frowny again.” Grantaire threw the bottle on the backseat and patted Enjolras on the thigh. You could barely see the bruises from Chicago. Hand still on him, Grantaire started tapping his fingers along to some rock ballad on the radio, gradually wandering up toward Enjolras’ groin. His eyes settled on his face, watching his expression intently.

“What are you doing?,” Enjolras asked, his voiced tight.

“Nothing.” Grantaire rucked up Enjolras’ shirt then, as best as he could with the seatbelt in the way, fingers lightly running over his skin.

“I’m driving,” Enjolras hissed.

“Yeah, you keep doing that,” Grantaire said, letting his hand wander back down again, and started unzipping Enjolras’ pants.

“Grantaire…”

There was a gleam in his eyes that could best be described as devilish. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” Enjolras nearly whimpered when Grantaire’s hand dipped down farther.

“I thought so.”

“I just think I shouldn’t be…” A soft moan escaped him when Grantaire’s hand wrapped around his dick, his hands clutched tightly around the steering wheel, “…driving,” he finished weakly. Grantaire had never so much as tried anything and Enjolras was a bit surprised, to say the least, and as much as he didn’t want him to stop, he also didn’t want to drive his car straight into a ditch.

Grantaire leaned closer. “Pull over then,” he said and started stroking, slowly, his nose nuzzling at Enjolras’ neck.

And that he did at the next opportunity he saw. He was glad he was still able to manage that, he didn’t feel like he had a lot of control over what he was doing with Grantaire’s hand on him, especially because he was increasing the pace steadily, and Enjolras was feeling more than a little flustered. He parked the car next to a closed and deserted corner store, jamming the gear into park as soon as the car had stopped rolling.

Grantaire then bent down to take him into his mouth and from then on it was over embarrassingly quickly, as Grantaire’s tongue swiftly brushed over the head of his dick, sending him over the edge with a loud moan.

Only later his head was clear enough to think about how lucky they were that no one was around to catch them parked next to the road, with Grantaire bent over him and Enjolras’ hand tugging at his hair.

“You are insane,” Enjolras breathed. He still felt shaky.

“I know, but that’s why you like me.”

Enjolras couldn’t argue with that.


	12. Chapter 12

Enjolras kept glancing into the car while he filled the car with gas. Grantaire was fast asleep on the passenger seat and he didn’t have the heart to wake him up, but they were now in California, had been for half an hour, and all the while Enjolras had refrained from waking him up. He really shouldn’t be this considerate, Grantaire had kept him up all night, telling him stories, making sure he didn’t fall asleep, pinching him even when he just as much as closed his eyes for longer than a regular blink, and he was tired, too, but couldn’t sleep since he had to drive.

He went inside the gas station to buy some snacks and finally, when he got back into the car and slammed his door shut, Grantaire jerked awake. “Mmm, where are we?”

“California,” Enjolras answered with a smirk.

“What, since when?”

“Since about thirty minutes ago.”

“You should have woken me up,” Grantaire grumbled.

“I thought you might get mad, and you looked really adorable.”

Grantaire huffed. “How much longer till we get to Santa Monica?”

“I’m not sure, about four or five hours maybe?”

“God, wake me up when we get there.” And with that he made himself comfortable and closed his eyes again.

“Really, you’re just gonna sleep all the way there?”

Grantaire’s eyes flew open again. “Why, would you like me to… entertain you again?”

“No,” Enjolras said and started the car, “I’d rather get there without any near-death experiences, thank you very much.”

“Oh, come on,” Grantaire’s hand dropped on his thigh again, “you seemed to enjoy yourself.”

Enjolras didn’t answer, he felt the blush rising on his face, so he turned to pretending that he was concentrating really hard on the road. They hadn’t talked about it the day before, Grantaire hadn’t mentioned it again, and neither had he, mostly because he didn’t know how to bring it up, so he’d just wrapped his arms around Grantaire when he’d fallen into bed next to him.

And then Grantaire had talked, told him stories of which Enjolras was sure Grantaire had never told anyone before, some of them he whispered, some of them he could barely finish because he was laughing too hard and Enjolras had to wait for him to calm down so he’d get to hear the end of it. It was strange how well he knew him, it was like they’d been friends for ages, certainly not like they’d met not even two weeks before.

Now that they were getting closer to the end of Route 66, Enjolras was starting to think about going back, they still hadn’t talked about it, just like they hadn’t talked about a lot of things. He wanted to ask, but admittedly, he was scared of what Grantaire was going to say.

He took one hand off the wheel and curled his fingers around Grantaire’s hand.

* * *

It took forever to get through the traffic to Santa Monica, Grantaire was fidgeting in his seat impatiently for the last half hour of the ride, and Enjolras’ didn’t really feel his feet anymore when he finally pulled into the parking lot at Santa Monica Pier. They were lucky to get a spot there to begin with, he wasn’t sure if his feet would have lived through a longer search for a parking lot.

They walked along the pier, to the sign that declared the end of Historic Route 66, and stood there for a moment.

“We actually made it,” Enjolras mumbled.

Grantaire squeezed his hand with a smile. “Let’s go down to the beach, or do you want to go on the ferris wheel first, I know how much you love heights.”

“Man, don’t remind me, I still hate you for that.”

“No, you don’t.”

Enjolras sighed. No, he really didn’t. “How about we get something to eat first?”

“Sure.”

They got Churros,  and afterwards Grantaire had his future foretold by a fortune teller machine, and read the result to Enjolras with a grave expression. “Oh no, it says I should stay away from handsome blond guys, sorry Enjolras, that’s it, it was nice to meet you.”

He grinned and started walking off into the other direction, until Enjolras caught him by the wrist. “Does it also say you should stop being an idiot, because that would be good advice for once.”

Grantaire tried to glare at him, ultimately failed, and burst out laughing again. They walked down to the beach, made their way through towels and blankets, there were people sunbathing, people playing Frisbee or volleyball, until they eventually found a spot away from the laughs and screams. They both kicked of their shoes and Enjolras walked toward the ocean, stood there with the waves washing around his feet, looking at the endless water, while Grantaire sat down and watched him, waiting for him to come back.

Enjolras walked back slowly, contemplating, thinking that now was as good a time as any to ask. He sat down, side to side with Grantaire, and took a deep breath. “What happens when we get back to New York?”

“I… don’t know.” Grantaire drew a flower in the sand with his toes. The question didn’t seem to bother him much, but Enjolras wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or concerned. “Do we need to know what’s going to happen? I mean, do we have to decide now, or does it have time until we’re back?”

“I suppose we don’t have to decide right now, I just… want to know if we’re still going to see each other, I guess.”

“Sure, I mean, I promised to make you pasta, remember?”

Enjolras laughed. “Yeah, I remember, but that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Yeah, I know.” Grantaire leaned against him. “Well, I imagine it’ll go somewhat like this…,” he paused for a second and then continued, “I’ll give you my number and you’ll call me and we’ll do things together, you’ll introduce me to your friends and I’ll be really scared that they’ll hate me and maybe I’ll make you pasta, and it’ll all be really awkward, and maybe we’ll be okay and maybe we won’t be, but the way I see it, we won’t know until we’re actually back there.” He ran his fingers through Enjolras’ hair and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Don’t worry, remember when I met you and you were constantly frowning and more like a robot than a human being, don’t go back to that now, no frowning allowed.”

“I’m not frowning,” Enjolras said quietly and tried to smile. “I just like having a plan.”

“Some things you just can’t plan. You have to let them happen to you.”

“I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’m not very good at letting things happen to me.”

“Oh, you’ve gotten better at it,” Grantaire said and kissed him lightly.

Enjolras smiled for real now. “I’m glad you bought me breakfast.”

“Hm, I’m glad I did, too.” Grantaire then hooked his arms around Enjolras’ chest to draw him closer, his face buried in his hair. “Do you have your phone?,” he suddenly asked.

“What? No, it’s in the car.”

“Your wallet and the car keys?”

“Yeah?”

“Give them here.”

“What, why?”

“Trust me.”

Enjolras handed them over to Grantaire, who promptly dropped them next to their shoes, along with his own wallet. “Good,” Grantaire said, and stood up and pulled Enjolras to his feet.

“That’s just an invitation for people to steal our stuff, you know,” Enjolras said, sensing what Grantaire was up to.

“Oh come on,” he winked, “live a little.”

And Grantaire ran, still fully clothed, toward the ocean, toward the setting sun, dove into the waves with a scream of delight, and Enjolras followed suit, caught up with him in the water and pulled him into a kiss.

He could taste the saltwater on his lips, pulled him closer as the waves washed around them, could feel the water tearing at him, and he held on to Grantaire to keep himself steady, as the sun sunk into the ocean that stretched out behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, well, this is the end, thank you so much for the kudos and the comments, it was a pleasure writing for you!
> 
> (if you don't want this to be the end, you know, just in case you want to know what happens when they get back to New York or whatever, let me know, because I'd keep this going if you all wanted me to continue) (I'd make it a series or something, but only if people are interested) (okay that's it from me)
> 
> edit: since so many people have asked me to continue, I promise there'll be more


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